


Legacy of the North

by LeSnailAuthor



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Set 30 years after the events of Skyrim, Some minor violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-14 23:16:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14779161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeSnailAuthor/pseuds/LeSnailAuthor
Summary: Life will change for a student of the College of Winterhold after a fated journey to the frozen continent to the North.





	1. Prophecy

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to the amazing PipesFlowForeverandEver for proof reading my work! :D

When the Eagle Banner from white walls flies,

An ancient army will soon again rise,

A hero from a people of yore,

Leading long gone legends into war,   

Fire and Ice into battle stride forth,   

And Tamriel will know, the Legacy of the North.  

 

It was a bright yet cold afternoon in Winterhold, light sleet tumbling down in wide spirals onto the cobbled main road and side streets that ran through the ancient city. The thatched buildings held small patches of snow on their straw roofs as well as larger drifts around the edges of the buildings foundations, where the sun struggled to reach. The people of the city went about their day to day lives under the great shadow of the settlements most famous addition. The College of Winterhold. Home and learning center of many mages that live in Tamriel, it's steep, looming grey walls gave a more intimidating presence than welcome to those who lived outside its circular confines. Luckily for those housed at the college, they rarely got ill intentioned visitors as the distrusting locals didn't go near the crumbling bridge that connected the building to the mainland. This quiet had been most welcome over the last few months as the Arch Mage was nearing the final stages of an expedition that every student and every lecturer was anticipating.

~~~~~~

The Arch Mage was sat in his personal chambers, floating balls of light wafting gently overhead, illuminating the small garden in the middle of the round office. The light rippled over the wide variety of exotic flowers, shadows from banners bearing the symbol of the college casting dancing shadows on tall walls. A static ball of light held above the Arch Mage as he looked over several pieces of paper, scouring over various lists and numbers. There came a knock at the door which made him look up from his pages.

"Oh, come on in" the Arch Mage called, going back to his papers. The door opened and a short haired Breton woman in yellow robes walked in.  

"Captain Rulacar wants an update on next month's curriculum" she said, almost wearily, "I personally don't know why he demands a report, it's not as if we're scheming to overthrow his Thalmor guard."

The Arch Mage sorted the papers into a neat pile in front of him and got out of his chair. He straightened up his official robes; they were grey and faded blue, including a large diamond-shaped piece of fabric that lay over the shoulders covering the front and back. The Arch Mage himself was an average sized Breton man with a round, friendly face and silver streaked brown hair that had receded far up his head. He grabbed a small pile of envelopes that sat on the table he was working at and walked over to the door. He stopped at the Breton woman with a small smile.    

"You can tell Rulacar that unless he's suspicious about beginners enchanting or lessons about the magical properties of wisp wrappings, then he's got nothing to worry about! Now, if you'll excuse me I must attend to the final stage of what I've been planning since First Seed!"

The woman gave a chuckle and let the Arch Mage pass, closing the door behind them. They both walked down the worn, stone stairs and once they reached the bottom the Arch Mage turned to the Hall of the Elements. He stopped and turned round and called back to the Breton woman.

"Oh, and if old Rulacar doesn't like what he hears, tell him we're training skeevers to turn invisible and spy on them!"

Both gave a light laugh, and the Arch Mage opened the large gates into the Hall of the Elements.         

~~~~~~

The cavernous room was lightened with an ethereal, shimmering blue light that twisted upwards from the central pool in the high, open room. Various small groups of college lecturers made up of two or three people had gathered in the hall, all chatting to each other. Students were doing their best to work around these groups, keeping as they could to the edge of the room. The Arch Mage reached the groups of the college lecturers and cleared his throat.   

"Excuse me! Everyone!"  

The groups slowly started turning to face the Arch Mage.  

"I've been reviewing my notes and I've decided on who'll be going on the expedition. Let's see now..." The Arch Mage proceeded gave a list of names that belonged to various lecturers of the schools of magic. He also gave the names of students that would accompany the lecturers as their assistants, and the lecturers acted as personal mentors in turn. Several people went to sleep that night exceedingly happy, others quite disappointed. One student however, went to sleep quite vexed. This student took the first chance they got the next morning to take up their complaint with the Arch Mage, they didn't bother to knock on his door when they stormed in.

"Excuse me, sir, but why didn't you choose me to shadow the Restoration master for this trip? I've told you how much I think it would benefit me!" The student seemed quite distressed about the decision, but the Arch Mage could only summon a tired sigh.   

"Falyth, my dear, you do know that you're not the only student who believes this to be their once in a lifetime moment in their field of study?"  

Falyth Ularas was a young Dunmer woman with mid grey skin and bright red eyes. Thin in frame, she had long dark hair that she wore as one long braid down her back with two lengths of her jet black hair falling past her pointed ears with the ends resting on her shoulders, her faded robes were brown and blue, signifying her as a student at the college.    

"As much as I'd love to be able to send all of my students, I simply can't. I can only send those whom I deem able!"  

These words seemed to hit Falyth hard, her face dropping and her stomach plunging. The Arch Mage noticed this and tried to correct himself.   

"I am in no way saying that you are bad in your study! but...you are behind many of the other students, and this particular expedition will be tough, even for the our most experienced lecturers!" he hurriedly explained, trying to give a smile to help raise her spirits; it hadn't seemed to have worked. Falyth looked totally dejected, taking in a deep breath composing herself.

"I understand," she said, trying to hold back more visible disappointment, "I shouldn't be upset as there are others who aren't going, I shouldn't think myself a special case." She turned around to leave.

"Falyth! Just...wait one moment," the Arch Mage called out. Falyth turned around again to see the Arch Mage writing something down on a small piece of parchment. He hastened over, holding it out to her. "Give this to Friva Healing-Heart, it's personal permission from me for her to give you one-on-one mentoring… on the expedition." He gave a wide smile as she took note from his hand, feeling her heavy soul lift. She looked up at him, eyes beaming with happiness.

"Thank you, sir!" she gasped, now trying to hold back obvious joy, "I'll bring this to her immediately!" WIthout delay, she ran back down the stairs towards the Hall of Countenance looking for Friva's quarters. Friva was a tall Nord woman, with strong features and brown hair with auburn accents that she let flow down over her shoulders. She found her at her desk reviewing a book on ancient healing techniques.

"Excuse me, Friva, but I have a note here from the Arch Mage himself!" she exclaimed proudly, thrusting the note at her. Friva put the book down and read the note.  

"Hmm, one-on-one sessions, eh? You know what, I'm more than happy! I'm not sure the student assigned to me needs me anyway!" she chuckled, "You were adamant to get on this trip, weren't you?"

"If I'm going to be be a healer at a Temple of Kynareth here,” Falyth said with a smile, “it'll help endear myself to the Nords if I know some things about them and their land... no offence!"

Friva found this quite humourous.  

"Not at all, my girl!" she picked the book back up to continue her reading, "I'm not surprised you managed to get on board, you were extremely determined despite where we're going!"  

Falyth looked confused.   

"This is a trip to find ancient Nordic artifacts, is it not? I imagined we'd be travelling the barrows or the northern coast ?"

Friva lowered the book once more.  

"Oh no, Falyth. We're going one step further."   

Falyth looked anxious.

"Where will we be going?"

Friva leaned in closer.

"We're going to Atmora."   

~~~~~~

Falyth couldn't believe it; she knew the trip was going somewhere where there would be plenty of old Nordic artifacts, but Atmora? She wondered whether she had bitten off more than she could chew, but she pressed on- this is what she wanted. She had a week to get ready. One week to pack her supplies.

The week went by quickly, each night Falyth going to sleep anxious but also excited. The day finally came for the expedition team to set out to the far North and venture the frozen, dead lands of Atmora, taking carriages down to the port in Windhelm where a large ship was waiting for them at the far end of the harbour. Falyth stood herself with the other students whilst the lecturers made the final preparations to the ship and made the final deals with the sailors and with the spare time came gossip and theories of this lost land.  

"I don't think it'll be much different from the barrows, just jugs and tattered banners."

"How can you say that? There will be clothes, architecture, food!"  

"Imagine it- vegetables that might not even exist on Tamriel!"

Falyth decided to weigh in.

"What about books? knowledge, crafts, magic! ancient magic forgotten even by the Atmorans!" The group seemed to take interest in her comment.  

"Exactly! Just think of the possibilities, magic wielded by Dragon Priests even older than the ones buried underneath Skyrim!"  

One of the lecturers came over and broke up the excited chatter.   

"OK everybody, everything has been sorted and we're ready to set off so grab your things and head on board. You'll be shown to your bunks."

Soon, the whole group had made it onboard and the ship had set off. A nervous pang hit Falyth's stomach; this would be the furthest away from home that she would have ever been, and to make it worse it will be in the cold, forgotten lands of Atmora. She also couldn't help but remember what the Arch Mage said about her being behind the most of the other students. Even laying in her assigned bed couldn’t allow her sleep. She decided to seek out Friva for some company. Most of the lecturers were gathered in a modest living area further along from the sleeping quarters and luckily for Falyth, Friva was there. She walked over to her and sat in the chair next to her.

"Excuse me, Friva, you don't have a moment to talk, do you?" Falyth asked timidly. Friva gave her a reassuring smile.  

"Of course I do, is something troubling you?" She turned her chair to face Falyth. "Worried about the journey? Don't worry, it seems I'm the only lecturer who isn't..." She looked around her before leaning in and whispering "green around the gills." This gave Falyth a small laugh, and she felt a little more comfortable.  

"There's just one more thing," Falyth began again, her brow furrowing slightly, "The Arch Mage said that I was behind most of the other students. I mean, I know that I'm making slow progress but... am I really that far behind?"

Friva gave a light sigh.

"You're just taking your time, which is absolutely fine." Friva smiled. "Most of us were hoping though that you would follow in your parents footsteps."

Falyth seemed quite annoyed with this statement.  

"Well I've made my choice, I'm learning the school of restoration." she replied firmly.   

"We simply think that you would have a natural talent in destruc-"

"I'M NOT LEARNING ABOUT DESTRUCTION MAGIC, ALRIGHT!" Falyth had stood up out of her chair, pushing it back. The lecturers in the room had turned around, confused, with Falyth sitting back down feeling quite embarrassed.  

"I... I'm sorry. it’s just that-" Friva put her hands on Falyth's, clenched on her legs.

"No, you're alright, I shouldn't have mentioned it. I know you have your reasons." Falyth's hands loosened in Friva's. "We all want to see you succeed on whatever path you choose!"

Falyth took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Thank you, Friva." Falyth said, smiling again, "I'm still sorry for shouting."

"Don't you worry yourself, I'll go fetch us some rose tea." Friva got up and headed to the kitchen supplies. "I'd tell you to get some sleep, but we've got a week before we reach our destination so you can catch up tomorrow!"     

The further along the week long journey they got, the rougher the seas they sailed. The ship rocked from side to side, backwards and forwards as the choppy waves twisted and swirled around them, pushing and pulling the ship straining its body, the creaking of its battered hull being heard everywhere inside its protective wooden shell. Falyth was with Friva in the living quarters again, the seas now so unstable the people onboard were struggling to stand up.  

"We've been travelling now for about seven days now," Falyth stated having to raise her voice over the roaring waves, crashing against the sides of the ship, "Shouldn't we be reaching Atmora soon?"

"Indeed we should, but these tumultuous waves are making me nervous. I'd rather dock this ship than crash it."   

"What is the docking plan?" Falyth questioned, "Or is it the case of stopping near the shore and taking smaller boats to the shore?"

"If there's no proper way to dock the ship, it looks like we will have to take the smaller boats towards the shore. We can't risk puncturing the hull. Once we reach the shore, the first thing to do i-"  

Suddenly, Friva went quiet. The ship went quiet. Everything was quiet.  

Falyth's brow furrowed with concern.

"What's happened? It's as if the waves stopped..."

Friva had also furrowed her brow with concern.

"I don't know, this is certainly strange..." Friva now seemed deep in thought, she turned to Falyth, "There are rumours about the cold in Atmora; people call it an unnatural winter. They say the whole continent is cloaked by a single giant blizzard. An icey cyclone that dropped to a temperature so low that time itself froze, eventually freezing the blizzard itself."  

This news made Falyth feel very nervous.

"This is why numerous lecturers from the different schools of magic are needed, simply to stop ourselves from succumbing to the impossible cold. During the week of final preparations, it took three of us to enchant the ship with a spell to resist the freezing temperatures of these Northern shores."  

All of a sudden, the silence on the ship was broken by one of the sailors working on the vessel.   

"Ready yourselves everybody! We're approaching land!"

~~~~~~

All the students and lecturers had packed quickly and we're now on the deck of the ship, protected by the enchantment. They could see a faint grey line in the distance, the land that the sailors spotted earlier. The students looked around anxiously at the white mist which surrounded them, small flakes of snow and ice floating past their eyes as if suspended in the frigid air. One of the students called out:

"Everyone, look!"

Out of the grey shadows in the distance, strange outlines appeared in the fog. Large figures looming over them, draconic in shape, slowly moved past them revealing bigger forms behind them. They were figureheads on massive long ships, their masts blurred by the icey air towered over the ship casting wide but thin shadows from the small amount of light that came through the cloak of mist. Soon, more shapes emerged from the mists. Large, wide shapes came into sight, familiar shapes... buildings. The sight was just like that of Windhelm with jagged tiles lining tall roofs, hawk carvings bookending the central beams. Large stone warehouses sitting against thick, buttressed walls with more hawk carvings lining the the top of these grand structures, their hooked beaks pointing down towards the long shipyard. Friva stared in awe at the sight.

"It can't be," she said, her eyes wide, "It was a chance, but I never thought we would actually reach it."

Falyth reached for Friva.

"Where are we?"

"We won't have to worry about docking, Falyth, we have stumbled into the famous port city of Jylkurfyk."

Falyth couldn't believe what was told; they were about to dock into the port that Ysgramor himself cast off to make a new life for him and his people in Tamriel. They had found an empty docking space at one end of the ship yard and carefully sailed in. Before the expedition team got off the ship, the enchanters made themselves busy putting similar enchantments on the fur coats that had been imbued on the ship. Many of the members were thankful of the discovery of the city, as it meant they could find shelter inside one of abandoned buildings. They grouped together and made a beeline for the nearest building, it appeared to be some kind of warehouse with a huge pair of thick wooden doors shutting the entrance, surrounded by giant chunks of stone to keep them in place and old, faded carvings running along the top of the door frame. It took one of the lecturers to melt the ice over the handle with a weak fire spell, but they eventually managed to push the heavy doors open into a front area with a fe tables and scattered chairs. This also gave the students easy access to many artifacts for them to study, with a back area filled with abandoned crates. Once everything had been set up to an acceptable level, Friva gave her assigned student a task to complete and decided that now would be a great time to start the personal sessions with Falyth. She sat her down in a corner of the room so they were not disturbed.

"Right, Falyth, my first lesson might sound strange as I'm a healer, but one the most important spells we use is actually an alteration spell. Detect life." Friva sounded slightly muffled inside the thick, fur lined coat. "Being able to detect life makes it easy for us to tell who we should help, those who need it first and those... who are beyond help." She cast the spell in her hand, a purple light surrounding her hand with a translucent, geometric shape spinning and transforming in her palm. Falyth was mesmerised by the dancing magicka, a faint lilac shimmer in her eyes. Friva smiled, pleased at the interest Falyth was showing. She threw the spell up in the air, casting the room in a faint glow before fading. "Here's a scroll, this should let cast the spell easily as practice before learning to cast it from your own personal pool of magicka."  

Falyth read the scroll and it disappeared, her own hand surrounded by the purple, ethereal glow. Se threw the spell up in the air herself and the room glowed again, now her peers were surrounded by a blue smoke. Falyth smiled widely at this, loving the sight of the smoke trailing off with the movements of the movements of the people in the room. She looked around the building, seeking out the glow of the people on the upper floor of the building. However, her smile fell from her face as her eyes passed over the wall beside her. Friva noticed Falyth's change of mood.  

"Falyth? what is it?" she enquired, but Falyth was silent. "Falyth?"

"I... I need another scroll." Falyth quietly replied.

"Of course, I'll get one." Friva reached into a satchel beside her and handed over another scroll. Falyth grabbed and opened it, her hands shaking slightly. She cast the spell again, her eyes fixed on the same spot. She then slid herself back a few inches. Friva looked concerned.

"Falyth, what's going on? Why are you acting like this?" She put her hand on Falyth's shoulder. Falyth whispered back.

"I think... there's something out there."

Friva felt dubious about this but was still worried. Atmora had been a dead wasteland for thousands of years, nothing can be out there. To put Falyths nerves, and her own, at ease she cast detect life herself and looked in the same spot Falyth did.

Her face went white.

She got up, a stern look her face. She grabbed her bag and looked around the room, scanning for other lecturers.

"Stay here Fayth." Friva ordered firmly. She got up and grabbed two other lecturers.

"Listen, you might not believe when I say this, I was skeptical When Falyth mentioned it but I think she's telling the truth." She whispered intensely. The other lecturers looked confused, "There is something out there."

One of the lecturers shook their head, they were a Khajiit who taught destruction magic.   

"That is ridiculous, this land has been frozen over since the Merethic era. There is less life here than live brain cells in a drunk Nords head!"

This comment did not please Friva.

"If I was sure she was being paranoid, I wouldn't have brought you into it!" she spat, "I checked it myself and there is definitely something there." Friva glared at the Khajiit. "So if it's dangerous, I need you to help deal damage whilst our friend here lets us see what we're dealing with." She used her thumb to gesture at the alteration lecturer next to her, a Dunmer. Friva put her hands together and took a deep breath. "Apologies for my sharpness, we don't know what we could be dealing with. The Atmorans didn't bring much over excluding themselves, so we don't know what wildlife this place had unless we find frozen bones."

Both lecturers nodded and followed Friva out. Falyth called out to Friva,

"You're not going out, are you? it could be dangerous!"  

Friva turned her head to face her,

"We won't be long, don't worry yourself. We should be back before you know it!"

The Dunmer lecturer cast a ball of light into the air and the three of them ventured out of the building.       

~~~~~~

Friva cast the spell of detect life once again to search for the blue smoke.

"This way, and keep your eyes peeled" Friva called.

The two lecturers followed her direction, passing by boxes and crates of varying sizes, all of them having a white sheen with blue hints. The cobbled street they travelled also shone with a light coating of ice, blues drifting over the cold surface in the mild light. Eventually they came into a small clearing in the fog. Friva stopped and gasped. The two lecturers also stopped, their eyes widening in shock. A group of humanoid figures stood in front of them by an empty docking space, featureless and frozen solid in different positions. They stood like ghosts, stiff and dead with sharp, icy spikes flowing off each of the forlorn figures from when the chill set in. The Khajiit lecturer started stammering.

"This... this one cannot believe what he is seeing." he reached out with a clawed hand, "Each of these people, waiting for safe passage..." His head sank. "... that never came."

Friva was looking round the figures, peering at their pale, formless faces. She stopped at one on the outskirts of the tragic group. It seemed different, its stance was taller and it looked out into the town proper, as if it it was waiting, accepting the impending doom that swept over them. She cast detect life again and watched. A faint blue haze swirled round the ice encased figure. A surge built in Friva's body. She called out to her two followers.

"THIS ONE IS ALIVE!"

The other two started running over towards her, slowly she raised her hand and placed it on the figures chest.

"Hang in there," a smile creeping across her face, "we'll bring you back into the world again."  


	2. Prophecy pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The students have returned, what lies ahead for their special find?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proof read by the great PipesFlowForeverandEver! :D

Talk spread through the students, they had heard that they were leaving their expedition early but they had no idea why. Many of the lecturers became busy with unknown project kept from the students. The only thing known by the students was that the first item to be loaded onto the boat was a large box enchanted with an unmistakable frost spell. On the rough journey back it wasn't the various bottles, banners, fabrics and other preserved relics of the ancient land that the students talked about, but the mysterious box the lecturers kept as secret as they could from them. This secrecy carried on once they had docked back in Windhelm, with the students having to wait on the ship whilst this secret box was loaded onto a carriage sent ahead to the college. Back at the college, the students were gathered in the Hall of the Elements displaying their finds to the Arch Mage with plates, bottles, jugs, clothes and other small knick knacks covering gently rolled out rugs and carpets themselves displaying intricate shapes, spirals and coloured twirls wrapping around the edges. Banners hung from poles erected behind the students displays. Falyth had been pulled to the side by Friva Healing-heart who had something important.  

"I've spoken to many of the other lecturers and even though it took some persuading, I've got some good news for you," Friva told Falyth, the young Dunmer mage listening intently, "The other students don't know this as we're trying to keep this particularly valuable artifact under wraps until we deem it... safe for them."

"Safe for 'them'?" Falyth questioned.   

"Yes, I'm telling you because you, Falyth, were the one who technically discovered them and so I feel should be involved with their study," Friva's eyes shone with excitement, "We found one, a real, living Atmoran!"

Falyth was washed over with a mixture of emotions.        

~~~~~~

Falyth followed Friva down to a lower level of the college; she looked around the thick, stocky pillars that seemed to make up the upper segments of the colleges foundations.

"I didn't realise that the college had lower levels," Falyth stated, still looking around at broad, low room that they were traversing.

"This building has had dungeons since it was built in the 1st era, but they stopped using them for the longest time as people eventually decided that having a school with a prison system wasn't that important," Friva replied, "We mostly use these rooms now for anything that we want to test out anything that could be dangerous- got to think of your safety afterall!"  

It wasn't long before they reached a smallish room, a metal door ajar with a small slot eye level cut into it and two city guards standing either side. Friva opened up the door to let Falyth go in before her, and what Falyth saw before her was nothing like she'd ever seen before. On a wooden table in the center of the room was a white figure, tall and featureless with small pit marks where the winds threw tiny pieces of debris into their frozen form. Friva moved over to the other side of table. Falyth moved to stand on the side of the table opposite Friva.

"Here's another lesson, combining spells can be incredibly useful. After investigating the kind of cold this poor person has been encased in I have confirmed that the freezing temperatures were indeed unnaturally made and magical in nature." Friva conjured a healing spell in each hand. "Knowing this I figured that we could, in a way, defrost the subject using a combination of healing magic and destruction magic to create a kind of healing heat." Another student had stood up out of a chair to the side at a table and walked over to stand next to Falyth. "Now, let's see if this works..."           

The student ignited a ball of fire in both of their hands and held these magical flames underneath Friva's now downturned palms, Friva now closing her eyes in deep concentration. A bright yellow light emitted from her hands and small particles fell from the students flames and onto the frozen body, glowing slightly as they laid to rest on the blue, frosty surface. They moved from side to side slowly, covering the icey figure in the healing sparks of the mixed magic. Falyth watched intently as steam started to rise up off the body and drops of water started to build up on the table surface. Friva pulled her hands away and the spells she held dissipated and the student did the same but the layer of magical healing sparks still ate away at the magicka imbued ice that encrusted the near dead victim. All three mages in the room watched unblinking as the ice fell away revealing more of the person that lay underneath. Friva ordered the student who helped her to get a quill and parchment; enough ice had melted away for her to study the Atmoran. She rested her hands on the table and begun her investigation, clearing her throat and the student readied themselves at the table, quill holding over the top of the parchment.   

"Date, Fredas 15th of Sun's Height, 231st year of the 4th era. Subject of study, the Last Atmoran. Subject, male, seems be physically healthy despite weak lifesigns, their physique matching that of a modern Nord yet with paler skin, however, the subjects height seems to be on par with that of a male Orsimer." She moved her hand to the cuff of the ancient man's shirt, tugging it slightly. “Attire has a unique design with regular cloth items being reinforced with thick leather, mostly around the abdomen, chest and thighs.” Friva then took the cold body by the wrist and gently lifted his arm “for what appears to be civilian clothes the use of bracers perplexes me, as well as the large piece of leather that descends from his belt buckle.” She ran her thumb over an embossed shape in the leather bracer “These symbols perplex me also, is this a city crest? Is it military? Or has this man been branded? Whatever it may be, only HE knows." Friva stood back up and folded her arms, smiling to herself. Falyth walked over to her and stood next to her.

"This is amazing," Falyth said in awe, "This person has been completely unaffected by the cold from his homeland!"

Friva nodded.   

"As I said, this wasn't a natural cold, there was magic imbued into the ice that ravaged the Northern continent which slowed down time. The only conclusion I can come to is that the denizens of Atmora weren't frozen by the cold but by the magical properties of the cold. Frozen in time."

Falyth looked down at the body on the table.  

"This one got lucky, really lucky."

"Indeed," Friva replied, "It might take a long time, possibly even months, for him to recover to a state where we can communicate but once it happens I can't wait to hear the secrets that he must hold about his people and his homeland."  

Suddenly, Falyth, Friva and the student scribe were caught off guard when something they didn't expect happened. The Atmoran groaned. Friva's mind was racing, she never expected for her frozen subject to regain consciousness so quickly and she had an Elf in room with her. She ordered the scribe to get the Arch Mage as fast as they could and called in the two guard outside.

"You two, stand by him. I don't know how he's going to act when he wakes up," she turned to Falyth putting her hands on Falyth's shoulders, "I know this isn't what you want to hear but I need to to go back to the Hall of the Elements." the Atmoran started to twitch his fingers and feet. "You know how the Atmorans felt about Elves, Ysgramor most likely told horrible stories about the Night of Tears and I don't to feel like I'm putting you in danger by keeping you here." Friva sounded worried; she had no time to prepare any kind of introduction for when the subject woke up and now she had to think on her feet. Falyth held her ground.

"No! You said yourself, I found the last living Atmoran and I want to be here when he wakes up!" she demanded adamantly.

"Falyth, please," Friva pleaded, "I don't want you to be in da-"

Friva was interrupted by a long groan from the Atmoran. His brow had furrowed and was inching his way up onto his elbows, his heavy eyelids slowly fluttering as his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room. He turned to look at Friva and Falyth.

"Where am... who are..." he croaked, "... you are..." his eyes widened. "Pointed... ears..."

Friva gave a stammered breath. The Atmoran inhaled deeply.

"MER!"

He reached out and tried to grab Falyth, Friva just pulling her out of the way and causing them to fall onto the floor. The two guards drew their swords and tried to restrain him, they struggled to hold him and he quickly shook them them off. He swung his legs around and pushed himself off the table and the guards grabbed him again, he clasped one of them by the wrist and pulled them around to the front snapping the guards elbow. The Atmoran then took hold of the guards armour neckline and belt tossing them with ease into the other guard, sending them into the opposite wall. He quickly spun round focusing his rage on Falyth and Friva once again. Friva readied a spell in her hand a thrust it at the Atmoran but he was too quick, taking hold of her wrist and wrenching her forward and grabbing her throat with his other hand. He lifted her up and slammed her head on the nearby examination table, her now limp body falling to the floor.

"NO!" Falyth screamed, tears in her eyes, launching herself towards Friva. The Atmoran threw his arm at Falyth grabbing her neck and pushing her against the wall, slowly scraping her back across the cold, stone wall as he lifted her up. Falyth never felt more terrified, she looked into his icy blue eyes burning with fury.

"Why... do you... hold me?" he snarled, his broken voice sounding just like a Nord to Falyths ears yet more… archaic, like each word drew for air from an age long passed, "Where... am I?"

"You are safe and alive," said a calm but firm voice. It was the Arch Mage. The Atmoran turned his head fast to look at the Arch Mage.   

"Who... are you?" the Atmoran growled in his still croaky voice.

"I am the Arch Mage of this establishment, my name is Jocelyn Duforte." he replied in a soft, reassuring voice slowly walking forward.

"Master of the clever craft?" The Atmoran questioned, "Helping your own?... Or in service... to these filthy Mer?" his grip on Falyth tightened slightly.

"I use it to help anyone and everyone." The Arch Mage looked around the wrecked room, including the two injured guards and the body of Friva, her arm moving slightly from frequent and light breaths. "And I'm willing to help you, you musn't be feeling too well having over exerted yourself like this, let me help your aching muscles, your swimming head, your stiff joints..."

The Atmoran began to loosen his grip on Falyth, lowering her. The Arch Mage raised his hand and offered it to the tired looking Atmoran. However, the ancient man began breathing heavily, inhaling deeply through his teeth.        

"You... you cannot sway me with your lies! You work for them! You are are a SLAVE TO THE FILTHY MER!" He gave a great roar of anger lifting Falyth up once again, bringing her away from the wall and threw her forward. The Arch Mage flicked his hand and flash of green light hit the Atmoran. He went stiff, rocking from side to side on his feet. He groaned through his clenched teeth as he held Falyth mere inches away from the grey stone of the foundation walls. Eventually he started to fall over but the Arch Mage and the student scribe caught him, freeing Falyth from his grip and laying him down onto the ground. The Arch Mage took a deep breath.

"Take Falyth up to her quarters, ask a lecturer to send more guards," he ordered solemnly, "We'll clear the room and leave him here. We need to decide what to do with him."        

~~~~~~

Falyth had been lying on her bed since the incident with the Atmoran, the attack running through her head constantly. She kept on telling herself that she should have listened and left the room when Friva told her, but she was stubborn and stayed. Friva was in the infirmary because she, an Elf, just had to stay in the room with race who famously loathed her kind. She felt completely responsible for what had happened. She needed to let the Atmoran know that he did nothing wrong in his position. Friva got out of bed and quietly made her way out of the student quarters, she stepped out of the door into the calm and cold night, the two moons shining bright in the cloudless sky along with numerous stars scattered across the inky blackness.

"Midnight." Falyth whispered to herself. staring into the night sky. She drew her robes closer to herself attempting to keep most of the frigid breeze off her skin and made her way down the the colleges lower sections through the Hall of the Elements. She felt the cold through the soles of her simple grey shoes as she tiptoed over the freezing stone slabs of the floor. She found the door of the room he was in, slowly walking over to door and gently knocking on the tarnished metal door. A voice as cold as the air around her came from behind the door.

"Who is it?" the Atmoran asked, his voice a lot smoother than it was that afternoon.

"It's me," Falyth replied quietly, "the... the Elf. My name is Falyth Ularas."

"Hmm," the ancient man grunted, "I don't know why you'd want to waste your time with me."

"Yes, well," Falyth replied, more confidently, "I simply wanted to let you know that I don't blame you for how you acted." She leaned against the wall next to the door, speaking at the hole in the door at eye level. This is not the way that you would have ever wanted, or how we ever intended, for you to wake up after your long sleep. It was my fault, you cannot be blamed for my own stubbornness." She looked down at her feet, her arms still folded holding her robes close. "I guess that's all I can really say." She got up from the wall. "It was... an honour, to watch you wake." She started to make her way back-

"It's funny you know," the voice behind the door called, causing Falyth to stop and turn around, "I've seen many more Elves visit this room, grey Elves and brown Elves and gold Elves, all whispering about what to do with me."

Falyth leaned in the same spot again. The Atmoran carried on speaking.

"But... none of them wished harm on me. Why would they not wish me harmed? or dead? Ysgramor talked of their bloodlust for my people."

Falyth listened intently.

"They share the pointed ears, but lack the snow white skin talked of. Are there... other Elves? Elves that do not wish my people destruction?"

"There are many more Elves," Falyth replied, "In fact, the Elves that troubled your people do not exist anymore... at least not in a form that you would recognise." Falyth heard a sound from inside the room, like he was straightening himself up from a sitting position.

"You mean... my people... they survived their return?" his voice sounding hopeful. "I... I must see them! I must see my people!"

"They survived, but you may not view them as YOUR people..." Falyth answered, "It has... been a very long time from your peoples travel here and your waking." A feeling of sorrow in her voice as she did not know how he would react to the information.

"What do you mean? How long have I been waiting here?"

Falyth paused.

"How. Long!?"

"You haven't been in our care for very long, a week or so, but the way we found you was... unique." She paused again. “You were frozen in a magical incident, this was a freeze so cold that time itself froze. You were held in time until we found you and brought you here."

"But how long?" the Atmoran interrupted.

"Just under... four and a half thousand years." Falyth said slowly. She heard him on the other side of the wall, sliding down back onto the floor.

"So it's true," a sombre voice mumbled, "The books they gave me. They mentioned a first era, second era, third era. I thought these were lies to trick me."

"Then why do you believe me?" Falyth asked.

"Because there's something about you," The ancient man answered thoughtfully, "Your selfless concern for me is... admirable."

This made Falyth smile.

"If you allow, I would be much obliged if you could perhaps answer some questions for me?" Falyth asked. The Atmoran gave a small chuckle.

"I don't see why not." he replied, his voice sounding surprisingly unreluctant.

"Your hair, it has some amazing accessories." Falyth had noticed that the Atmoran had very distinct jewellery, a thick braid ran down the top layer of hair at back of his head being held in the middle and at the end with large, oval iron clasps. Either side of this central braid, the side portions of the bottom layer had been gathered and held together with smaller circular iron clasps. His temples had been styled into thin braids with small iron beads hanging from the tips and his fringe hung free on either side of his eyes. "Are they military? Your fighting prowess eludes to you being a soldier."

"A soldier?" replied the Atmoran, sounding quite confused, "I'm no soldier, I'm a blacksmith!"

"Oh?" Falyth queried, equally confused.

"These decorations are symbols of my skill as a blacksmith," the Atmoran continued, "The more skills I gain as a smith, the more decorations I create." Falyth turned herself to face the door. "You could call it a tradition amongst blacksmiths, as the more skilled you were the more decorations you would create to wear and display your talent! It is said that the most skilled smiths will spend their final years with hair hidden by iron and faces cloaked by piercings!"

Falyth hung on every word, not only was he telling her information, but everything he said was a long lost secret of his ancient people. "I was still learning my trade, so I only have simple items to display."

"And the symbols on your bracers ?" Falyth added, excited to know more.

"The crest of my city," he replied, sounding proud, "the City of Anvils, famous for its mines and smithing skill."

"Jylkurfyk?" said Falyth.

"Of course not!" the Atmoran corrected, "Jylkurfyk means City of the Seas whereas I lived in the City of Anvils, Hjurlkurfyk."

"Ker- fick… do all of your city names follow this structure?" Falyth asked, fascinated.

"Most of them, there are four major cities with smaller towns and settlements that surround them."  The ancient man shuffled behind the door, adjusting himself to face the door. "There's Jylkurfyk and Hjurlkurfyk, but then there's also Raagkurfyk meaning City of the Forest and Ruunkurvelgge meaning Bridge-Town of the Estuary, finally there’s the moving settlement Halkurguul meaning Nomads of the Pastures."

Falyth was amazed with what she was hearing, it might have been simply knowing the names of cities but this was information lost to the ice of the Northern lands. She needed to know more.

"Another question, what is-"

"Hey!" a guard called out, spotting Falyth. "What are you doing here? This man is a danger! not only that, but it's late! Why are you out at this hour anyway?"

"Actually, we've been talking quite civilly," Falyth replied calmly, "But you're right, I should get back, I probably don't have many hours of the night left." Falyth got up from the wall and started walking away. She stopped and turned around. "Thanks for indulging my curiosity, it was a brilliantly insightful conversation!"

"No problem," answered the Atmoran, "Oh, and I think I've got a better title for that piece of paper other than 'The Last Atmoran'."

"Oh?" Falyth enquired.

"Well, you could try my name... Yngvar."  

~~~~~~

Whilst a friendship was forming in the frozen North-east of Skyrim, strange and sinister goings on were happening down South in Cyrodiil. The Imperial province had been ravaged over the past years, the Imperial City now locked off to those not Altmer, and any humans in the city resigned to living in slums or in desperate situations the sewers. The papery yellow Eagle banner flew off the high, white marble walls of the ancient Ayleid fortress city with many buildings destroyed only to be replaced with architecture you would find common in the towns of the Summerset Isle. Deep underneath the White-Gold Tower there was commotion, exciting and terrifying happenings that would soon be reported to even more terrifying superiors. A Moth Priest was making their way to the Emperor's throne room.  Two heavily armoured Thalmor guards opened up the huge, gilded doors to the throne room where a long red carpet led to the Ruby Throne, seat of the Emperor. In this seat sat a tall, slender Altmer in luscious jewelled robes, golden thread holding together various brightly coloured, exotic fabrics with a thick silver chain holding a long, green cloak over his shoulders. For an Altmer, he had particularly golden skin that shone almost as bright as the gold that lined his clothes. His face had particularly pointy features and had bright silver hair that flowed like a waterfall down over his shoulders and down his back to his hips. His name was Elenar; seasoned general, top politician of the Thalmor and self proclaimed Emperor of the newly established Aldmeri Empire of Tamriel. The Moth Priest shuffled quickly towards the Throne, stopping about ten feet from it and getting on one knee bowing.

"My Emperor Elenar, we have most important news from the Elder Scroll library." the priest hurried.

"Do tell," Elenar said coldly, "I'll deem its importance."

"W-well," the Priest stammered nervously, "During the latest check of our collection, we noticed an... anomaly."

Elenar seemed to take interest in this.

"What do you mean... anomaly?" he questioned, his words piercing through the anxious Moth Priest.

"Well, Emperor, the amount of scrolls we have collected fluctuates which is completely normal, but one of them has... stayed. It came into being into being and never went again." the Moth Priest got up to his feet. "We had our most suitable Priest study the scroll, and we found that the clearest part of it was a single phrase, 'The Legacy of the North'."

Elenar leant back in the marble throne, thinking.

"If I remember correctly," he pondered, "a group of mages from that school in Skyrim were having a little trip up North, trying to find that wasteland humans came from." His face looked stern, deep in thought. He turned his head to one of the guards standing next to the throne. "Guard, send a courier to Rulacar in Winterhold... I think it's time for a school inspection."    


	3. Newfound Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise visit from the local Thalmor agents causes chaos at the College.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to PipesFlowForeverandEver for beta-ing my work! :D

The journey to retrieve ancient Nordic artifacts from the grand but solemn continent of Atmora had given life at the College of Winterhold- a paradoxically warm atmosphere, with students immersing themselves alongside lecturers revealing secrets from collected treasures. But- just like how the bright life of summer submits to the long cold of winter- the vigor of the college would soon fall victim to the enveloping presence of its Thalmor overseer.

~~~~~~

Rulacar marched over the aging stone bridge with a small group of Thalmor soldiers into the great courtyard of the college, stopping in front of the large statue of Shalidor that stood guard by the front doors.

“You two come with me,” he ordered pointing at the two closest soldiers, “The rest of you stay out here, we shouldn't be too long.” With that, Rulacar gripped the handle of his sword and burst through the huge, grey doors of the college, black robes flapping from his long steps. The vast hallway echoed with dull rings of steel boots upon the stone floor and mottled lime green light reflected off ornate moonstone decorations encircling finely crafted armour from the sconces lining dull walls. The Arch Mage, Jocelyn Duforte, was in conversation with another lecturer when it was broken by the drawn-out groan of the iron gate that led into the Hall of the elements.

“Ah! Mr. Duforte,” Rulacar called out with a small wave, “Just the person I was looking for!”

The Arch Mage muttered something to the lecturer who simply nodded and went away, then turning himself to face the Thalmor agent with his hands clasped at is front.

“Good morning Rulacar, wonderful to have your…” he deliberately paused, “gracious presence in my establishment.”

The Thalmor agent’s mouth twitched at the corner before pulling into a fake smile.

“Well, enough with the formalities, I have business to attend to.” he said, reaching into his robes, “I’ve had orders from-” He gave a feigned gasp pulling a golden sealed piece of parchment with yellow ribbon. “-the Emperor himself! His grace wishes me to overlook the findings your team brought back with you, in fact, I hear you found something _very_ interesting indeed.” Rulacar’s smile slowly became more sincere yet malicious at the same time. The Arch Mage stood his ground.

“The students found many intriguing artifacts, but I hardly think that they would be of any interest to your Emperor.”

“Oh no, I’m not talking about those dusty pots and tattered rags in your pitiful display cases,” Rulacar scoffed while slowly stepping towards the head Mage, “I was thinking something larger, something that came in a carefully enchanted crate.” He leant over slightly to look down on the Arch Mage. “Something I managed to twist out of people, a little titbit that you so dreadfully tried to keep secret.”

The mage felt the venom from the Thalmor agent’s words seep into his skin; did he really know about the Atmoran? Rulacar chuckled.

“It’s such a shame you’ve been kept out of the loop by your own employees, a good leader gets respect from his underlings,” his smug words chiseled their way into the Arch Mage’s nerves as he lazily marched around him, “I _could_ have my men search your establishment, just to be sure, but I’m you’ve got _so_ many important projects that you wouldn’t want disturbed.” He looked past the corner of his eye to find the mage wasn’t budging. “I KNOW you brought something back with you.” He moved back close to the Arch Mage, his eyes digging into those of Duforte. “I made sure those slimy lizards down at the Windhelm docks gave me the information I needed and you'd be surprised what the innkeepers of this broken city will let slip for right size coin purse, so either you tell me what you have hidden and bring me to it or I will make sure that EVERY stone of this insulting school for magic is removed to find it!”

The head mage gave a heavy sigh.

“Fine, only because listening to is a poor waste of my time that I could better spend counting Skeever droppings.”

The corner of his mouth twitched again, Rulacar ordered a few of his small group to follow him as he went with the Arch Mage.

~~~~~~

They went down the steep, twisting steps to the undercroft of the college and across the broad stone floor. The Arch Mage could see the guard by the door to the room Yngvar was being kept in. He waved at the guard to stand aside.

“Falyth, I’m afraid that your questioning will have to be cut short.” he knocked on the tarnished door lightly, “he has another… visitor.”

He stepped back from the door as it heavily swung open with Falyth Ularas stepping out, gently waving a piece of parchment to dry its ink.

“I guess I can finish up tomorrow,” she said giving a slight sigh, “I was just in the middle of learning about royal armour design, it’s fascinating how their pantheon-” her string of words stopped as she noticed the group of Elven soldiers in the background headed by the tall, black robed Rulacar. “I… didn’t think you had any interest in what we were doing?” she cautiously enquired.

“My interests are none of your business,” he replied, looking down the bridge of his flattish nose, “Now why don’t you run along? I’m sure there’s a bandage tying class you should be failing right now.”

Falyth scowled at him as he pushed passed her into the room, now scattered with various comforts. There was a small chair and table in the corner as well as a bed roll and a rough-looking shelf with various books about province histories. Yngvar was sat in the chair, a puzzled look on his pale brow when the Thalmor agent strode into the room.

“Who are you?” Yngvar asked gruffly. Rulacar cleared his throat.

“I am Rulacar, Overseer of the Winterhold Thalmor branch.” Each word reeked with self-satisfaction. “I watch over and organise defense personnel of this city!” Yngvar didn’t look too impressed with his introduction.

“So… you’re the head guard?” the Atmoran retorted, causing the Thalmor agent to hold back a grimace.

“Well, I think that is enough for the formalities.” He walked up to Yngvar with his back straightened, trying to make himself more imposing over the seated Atmoran. “I have had a special order from our glorious Emperor to investigate a particular find this college dug up.”

“I prefer the term ‘rescued’.” Yngvar coldly cut in.

“Very well, how the college _rescued_ …” Rulacar looked into Yngvars eyes. “...this artifact.” The agent then started pacing the room. “Being the dedicated Thalmor head of this region, it is my job to search and act upon any new discoveries that could be a possible threat to the region and _by extension_ the great Empire of the Thalmor!” He turned on his heels to face Yngvar once again, “And by the Eight, have we got a discovery here…” He looked at the Atmoran in an unsettling way, like malicious thoughts were brewing in his mind. “Let me get a better look at you- get up, artifact.”

Yngvar stood up from the chair and almost dwarfed the Thalmor agent. Despite shrinking back into himself slightly, Rulacar managed to straighten back up and began looking over the Atmoran in an almost exaggerated manner simply using up time to make what he was doing more important.

“Ah, yes, very good, not a mark on it!” Rulacar remarked with a mischievous grin. “I can understand my Emperors interest in this specimen!” He marched back to his chosen guards. “Such a shame though, but keeping him around since his people went the way of the Dwemer is just cruel.” He let out a feigned sigh of sympathy. “Be thankful of our Emperor's mercy… Kill him.”

The two guards drew their swords, blades carved with beautiful Elven patterns, and quickly stomped their way towards Yngvar. Falyth and the Arch Mage called out in objection and tried to get into the room only to be stopped by Rulacar drawing his own blade and pushing it into the Arch Mages chest, forcing both him and the young student back out. The two guards raised their swords and struck down…but Yngvar was faster. He grabbed the arm of one of guards and used it to slash the limb of the other guard making him drop his own sword. The guard was pushed into the wall then punched in the gut by the towering man, crushing his hand. A roar of pain rung through the air as the other guard raised his sword using his other arm and slashed down again. He missed! ...but caught Yngvar in his already injured arm. The Atmoran grabbed the guard by his hand and drove the sword into his counterpart’s  flank, making him drop to the floor clutching at his side. Yngvar then whipped around and kicked the guard into the wall behind him, grabbing his injured arm and ran out of the room into Falyth and the Arch Mage. Suddenly, Rulacar was grasped by the throat and was quickly unceremoniously thrown to the side with a strained groan. All were breathing heavily from panic.

“These damned MER!” the furious Atmoran growled, “You said Elves wished me no harm!?”

Falyth was exceedingly flustered.

“They don’t!” she fearfully blurted, “But some… some are- are-”

“This is NOT the time for politics!” the Arch Mage interjected, “You two need to get away from here _immediately_ , I’ll do what I can from the college!”

All three ran to the stone staircase leaving only the terrified town guard to pick up the pieces.

~~~~~~

Darting through tight corridors, they burst into the Hall of the Elements filled to the brim with students and lecturers. They- along with the stationed Thalmor soldiers- turned in surprise to witness the Arch Mage dash past them, Falyth alongside with a mysterious pale Nord who was streaming blood from his arm. Behind them from the undercroft entryway came the dishevelled Thalmor agent Rulacar, breathing heavily through gritted teeth.

“STOP THOSE TRAITORS!” he screamed, clutching his chest.

The other Thalmor soldiers drew their swords and readied their shields as they sped towards the three escapees who had just wrenched the large iron gates open to get to the front doors. The soldiers were almost on them when they threw the large, grey doors to the college open. They ran across the open courtyard, kicking up the thin layer of snow that lay across the frozen stone and stiff grass. They almost made it to the bridge before an arrow zipped past Falyths head, only just scraping her hair. It made all three stop after it clattered on the stonework in front of them, turning around to see the group of soldiers with weapons in hand. A few of them now sporting bows. Rulacar limped to the front of the group with a manic glint in his wide eyes.

“You would… DARE… to GO AGAINST…” He was bent over, obviously exhausted from the chase and spitting each word. “The order… of our… GLORIOUS and BENEVOLENT EMPEROR!?” He stretched his back up straight, wincing. In response, the Arch Mage stepped forward.

“I have no understanding of your ‘Emperor's’ decision; this man is a _miracle_ to Skyrim!” He threw his arms into the air, “To _all_ of Tamriel! Whenever has a chance come to speak to an ancient people? To learn what we had thought lost?”

“I don’t CARE about your ‘ _history_ ’ or about how these drunk, Skyrim savages came about!” Rulacar screeched through gritted teeth, “My Emperor has ordered this so-called ‘Legacy of the North’ DEAD and I intend to drag this OBSOLETE ANIMAL to Cyrodiil myself!”

The area went quiet. Rulacar realised what he had said.

“Legacy of the North?” Falyth questionably muttered. The Thalmor agents eyes flicked from side to side.

“...Kill them all,” he murmured.

Hesitantly, the Thalmor soldiers moved forward with their shields raised and swords pointed towards the nervous trio. The Arch Mage turned round to Falyth and Yngvar.

“You two… run,” he grunted.

“But- Mr. Duforte!” Falyth said with remorse.

“Just go!” the mage shouted, pushing back over the bridge “I told you… I’ll do what I can _here._ ”

Falyth and Yngvar turned back to go over the bridge only to be met with two more Thalmor soldiers. They were trapped and pinned.

“Nowhere to go,” Rulacar gleefully remarked, “Just give up peacefully and perhaps I’ll allow you to have a proper send off!”

His brow furrowing heavily, Yngvar growled in frustration. Then, suddenly, he looked to the side and a small smile came across his face.

“I’m not surprised you didn’t see something so obvious with your tiny Elf eyes…” he said mockingly, “We’re not at all trapped, we have one last place to go…”

“And where is that exactly?” Rulacar replied in a crazed manner.

“...Down.”

Yngvar grabbed Falyth round her waist and pulled himself onto the wall of the bridge proceeding to launch them both off the edge and hurtle through the frigid air. Falyth was screaming as they hit the cold, dense water beneath them. The Thalmor soldiers looked towards the freezing torrent in awe as they caught glimpses of the two drifting off in the choppy current. Rulacar yelled in anger.

“Put out a search for those two in EVERY province! I want NOWHERE to be safe for them!” he started pacing quickly, “I want their faces plastered on EVERY wall from here to Daggerfall!”

“And what about him?” called out one of soldiers pointing to The Arch Mage, “Should we proceed with his termination?”   
“Oh no,” Rulacar hissed, “I think we can find some better use for him.”

The mage was grabbed and taken towards the town as Falyth and Yngvar disappeared, merely specs drifting into the haze from the Sea of Ghosts.


	4. Rebuilding an Empire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With everything that is going on in Skyrim, Cyrodiil begins to stir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to the excellent PipesFlowForeverandEver for beta reading this work! :D

A cool wind blew through the plains of Cyrodiil, its touch mottling the thin blanket of cloud that rested above the province. Whisps fell underneath, frosted rays of sunlight faintly illuminating the lands below. The white walls of the Imperial City caught what it could of these pale, warm colours with broken light gliding over its geometric carvings. The dark waters of Lake Rumare stood still and quiet at the muddy feet of the Isle. Inside the city, life bustled in the tight streets as the Elven residents went about their business, laughing and talking as if the deshevilled humans shuffling around the grounds, begging for coins, didn’t exist. The few humans that weren’t pushed aside were numerous Imperial guards making their rounds in the districts, though not as the proud soldiers they once were. In these dark days of Thalmor rule, the once honoured Imperial guard were now no more than the grunts to do the Thalmor’s dirty work. They retained titles, but they were just that. Titles. No human in the Empire had any true power anymore. However, that is not to say there were some who hope to one day regain freedom and influence to the races of men. 

~~~~~~ 

In the guard house sat an Imperial, Salvius Motus, polishing his armour as other guards lounged and drank, engaging each other in mumbled conversation. His heavy brow furrowed and fire light glinted in his dark eyes as he rubbed a stained cloth over a scratched steel helmet, a sheen slowly appearing where he applied the watery wax. 

“Hmm, well,” he grumbled, holding the helmet in front of his face. “I guess this will have to do.” The Imperial tossed the ragged cloth to the side and placed the headgear on top of a rack which held his cuirass, sitting back down to observe his work. Suddenly, the door of the barracks opened and a younger Imperial guard, wearing standard light leather armour with his helmet tucked under his arm before stopping in front of Salvius. 

“Captain Motus, Sir!” he called, saluting. “You are ordered to relinquish half your men to replenish Altmer troops withdrawn from the main tower!” 

“At ease,” the Captain responded. “I’ll gather anyone who’s willing and send them to the Emperor's guards barracks; they will know where they they want them.” He got up and grabbed his  cuirass, letting o ut a small scoff. “Why do the Royal Guard want  _ my _ men to fill in for their own?” the Captain questioned, fastening leather straps on his side, “I mean, they never normally mix my troops with their own unless it’s a dire situation and I hardly call Dunmer and Nord fugitives an emergency.” 

“The Thalmor seem to be more riled up than a Khajiit out of Moon-Sugar” the Imperial soldier stated, “I mean, it sounded like even the Emperor is on edge!” the soldier said before giving a small chuckle “Who would have thought that our Lord and Emperor would be scared of an elder Scroll anomaly” he straightened himself up and saluted again. “That is all I had to report Sir, permission to le-” 

“What did you say!?” Salvius blurted, interrupting the soldier. 

“Th-that you are ordered to donate half your troops to the main tower, Sir,” the soldier stammered, “There was nothing else for to report!” 

“No, not that!” barked the Captain, “You said that the Emperor got all jumpy after an Elder Scroll anomaly,” he clasped his hands on the soldiers shoulders “What else do you know about this?” 

“I-I-I don’t know anything really” the soldier said nervously, “Just that there was an anomaly with the Elder Scrolls.” Salvius let go of the soldier and turned away from him. “I’m sorry, Captain.” 

“Ease yourself, soldier,” the Captain said quietly. “I don’t know why I worked  _ myself  _ up over this.” He let out a weak sigh. “Perhaps...perhaps my hopes of having finding a way to get free got the better of me.” Salvius turned back around with a reassuring smile, “You are relieved, soldier!” 

“Thank you, Sir!” the soldier saluted once more and himself turned to leave, but suddenly paused. “Actually, Sir, there might be something else I can tell you.” Salvius turned his head, brow furrowed. 

“Go on…” the Captain said with intrigue. 

“Well,” the soldier continued, “I  _ do _ recall two Thalmor guards talking about the anomaly; they were quiet but I could make out one repeating phrase…” 

“Yes…” Salvius urged. 

“... They called it ‘Legacy of the North’.” The news seemingly causing a spark to light behind the Captains eyes. 

“‘Legacy of the North’? This is… interesting…” Salvius began pacing. “Didn’t the students of the Mage’s College in Winterhold recently return from a journey to Atmora?” 

“I believe so, Sir,” the soldier replied “Is this important?” 

“Indeed it is” Salvius said, his mind racing. “And they brought something back with them, something they tried to keep secret.” He quickened his pace “They return with a secret artifact which aligns with an Elder Scroll anomaly, our Emperor decides it necessary to send a letter of ‘termination’ of this artifact and now the whole continent is on high alert for two fugitives; a Dunmer dressed in College robes and a Pale Nord…” The soldier seemed confused at this trail of words. 

“But Sir, how can  _ any _ of this fit together? Forgive me, but you’re sounding crazy!” he said with an undertone of worry. 

“Perhaps I am crazy,” Salvius laughed “Or perhaps this Nord isn’t a Nord at all, but one of the first people to ever put an Elf in its place.” The Imperial soldiers eyes widened. 

“Sir! You’re not suggesting…” 

“Oh but I am,” stated the Captain, grabbing his helmet. “It’s time I started formulating a plan, I believe that our chance of freedom… is on the run.” 


	5. Newfound Friends pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiding out in the frigid North, Falyth learns a little more about her companion. 
> 
> Beta read by my good friend Mr. Labo :D

An icy wind pushed its way through the gap of the two ancient iron doors, cutting through the air into the room where Falyth and Yngvar hid. The crisp air crawled over Falyths skin, her robes barely keeping out the freezing temperatures of the Northern shores of Skyrim. The Dunmer ’ s eyes flickered under her clamped lids as she slowly woke from her rest against a cold, digging stone wall. Falyth dragged herself up from the dust and cobwebs, her tired eyes searching around the dimly lit room for her Atmoran friend. 

“Yngvar?” she called out shakily “Yngvar? Are you here? Hello-” 

Suddenly one of the large doors creaked open, pushing leaked snow towards the sides and scattering it under Falyths legs. Yngvar heavily stepped in carrying a bundle of branches on his shoulder. 

“I could hear you, even from behind these doors.” he stated matter of factly “you do know there are Elves looking for us? A bit stupid don’t you think?” 

Falyth was going to fight that comment, but she felt too cold and stiff to bother. She wrapped her arms around her chest, rubbing her sides in a feeble attempt to warm her aching bones. 

“What happened to me?” Falyth enquired “I remember you jumping off the bridge like a  _ complete  _ madman, but not much after that.” Yngvar grunted, though Falyth believed it was a laugh. 

“You fell unconscious almost as soon as we hit the water, been like that for a few hours.” he dropped the branches down on the floor, scattering over the dirty stone slabs. “I didn’t think this room, or even these candles, would be warm enough for you so I went looking for burnable wood.”  T he Atmoran looked over his meager pile “this should do for now.”  H e pushed the branches together as best he could and reached back to pick up one of the dim candles resting around the room. Yngvar tossed it into the centre of the branches, igniting it after a few seconds. A warm orange glow gradually grew to fill the room. Falyth shuffled herself forward to get closer to the fire and held her shaking hands in front of  the pleasant stinging of the licking heat. 

“Where even is this place?” she questioned “I mean, this  _ looks  _ like an ancient Nord tomb, but the majority are further South, I know of one near here…” Falyth felt fascination, but also worry “... Ysgramor’s burial chamber.” she looked up to see Yngvar staring at a large stone likeness of the Nordic hero of old. He was completely still and looking directly into the statue ’ s smooth, grey eyes. The young Mage got up onto her still stiff legs and staggered over towards the Atmoran. 

“Is this place… some kind of, shrine?... for him?” Yngvar murmured. 

“Yes. It is.” Falyth replies quietly “it’s mostly used by the Companions down in Whiterun...” she curled the corner of her mouth “though I’ve heard pilgrimages have slowed over the years.” 

Yngvar reached out and rubbed his palm over the rough carving, his fingers bumping over the chiseled details. 

“But!” Falyth picked up “there’s more, it’s not just a shrine, this place is Ysgramor’s tomb!” 

The ancient man quickly withdrew his hand and turned to face the Mage. 

“His tomb? You mean he is buried here!?” Yngvar gasped “I… I  _ must  _ see him, I cannot leave this place without giving my respect to him.” 

“But… what if someone comes looking for us?” Falyth warned 

“ I f people are looking for us, those gold Elves would like to get us.” Yngvar replied, walking away. 

“I  _ meant  _ people wanting to  _ help  _ us.” the Dunmer said with an undertone of annoyance. She watched her counterpart walk up a dark tunnel that shot off to the side. Yngvar’s shadow made its way along the wall “wait!” she eventually called out. 

“What?” a gruff echo called back. 

“You’re… you’re going the wrong way.” 

An angled face reappeared in the tunnel. Falyth pointed down the opposite tunnel. 

“It’s this way.” she said with a slight smile, her want to help covering her want to not be alone. 

~~~~~~

They wandered the old, dusty tunnels to eventually  be  led to the vast room held up with towering curved pillars. Stone  sarcophagi lined the walls of this underground tomb, leading towards the far off end. Yngvar was in awe, he had passed through rooms with the resting places of many ancient Nords, but he knew that the largest room- the final room- was for his hero. Atmora’s hero. He walked quickly down the centre of the room, Falyth now having warmed enough to keep up with him, passing tables of offerings and old jugs and plates to the large cage upon a raised platform led to by steps. Yngvar stood at the base of these steps, looking up at the thick iron bars that blocked off the last black sarcophagus. 

“This… this is him, is it not?” the ancient man spoke, uncharacteristically softly. 

“It is.” Falyth confirmed, glancing up at Yngvar. Her eyes paused on his face, whos normal stern expression was replaced with that of reverence, like a son admiring his soldier father. A smile crept across her face, for the first time since he woke she saw on his face true peace, something needed right now. Yngvar slowly made his way up the staircase and quickly found himself standing inches away from the iron cage. 

“Ysgramor…” he whispered “saviour of  my people.” he reached his arm through the metal bars towards his hero's resting place… then his shoulder blocked the hole. Yngvar felt panic, he stretched his arm again, still to no avail. 

“No, please!” he pleaded “I need to, I  _ need _ to!” he took his other arm and grabbed on the the bars to stabilise himself as he reached once more. He had barely leant forward before he yelped and fell to the ground, holding his arm. Falyth showed panic herself as she shot over. 

“Yngvar! Are you OK? What hap-” she stopped talking as she noticed crimson streaks crawling over her compani on’s clasped hand “Yngvar, take your hand away, let me see.” The injured man slowly moved his hand to his lap, Falyth’s eyes widening “your arm, did you not do anything about it!?” 

“Apologies if trying to find somewhere to hide was more important than seeing to a cut.” Yngvar replied bluntly. His sword wound had taken a turn for the worse. It was swollen, with the injury itself being a jarring purple next to his snowy complexion. Blue veins also weaved across the underside of his skin, like cracks in glass. 

“One second, let me try something.” Falyth said. She closed her eyes tightly and held her hand over Yngvar’s injured limb. Her brow furrowed as a yellow glow faintly emitted from her palm. Slowly but surely the discolouration of the slash faded and the size decreased to just getting below the skin line. She withdrew her hand and exhaled heavily, a single bead of sweat dripping from her forehead  “that’s all I can do here, I did better than I thought!” the proud Mage said with a smile “I’ll see if I can find anything to wrap up your arm.” She got up to search , leaving her counterpart perched on the top step, a stern look upon his face once again. Falyth returned quickly. “It’s old, but it’s still strong and should last until we find something more suitable.” She unravelled what she found only to see the widening eyes of Yngvar. 

“You will  _ put. that. back. _ ” he ordered firmly. Falyth seemed confused. 

“I… I know these are wrappings for  _ deceased _ bodies, but it’s the bes-” 

“They are NOT just WRAPPINGS!” 

This outburst caused Falyth to jump, but Yngvar continued. 

“You might see these as simple coverings for bodies, but these are SACRED wrappings for the MOST HONOURED dead!” the large man sat up taller with his speech “not  _ only _ can I not give proper respect to my people ’ s most honoured warrior, you would  _ dare  _ to use a sacred item for simple  _ medicine _ !” 

“I… I…” Falyth tightened her grip on the wrappings “at least I’m  _ trying  _ to do SOMETHING! You would just sit back and let your arm rot off!” sudden confidence rushed through her body like adrenaline, cheeks flushing underneath her slate skin “I don’t think Ysgramor would allow his followers to maim themselves from petty pride!” she breathed heavily, staring at her incensed companion. Yngvar got to his feet. 

“My people, only 500 in number, destroyed thousands and thousands of Elves…” he growled in an unsettling low tone “and you mock them? You would be wise not to underestimate our strength…” 

Falyth looked up at him, feeling fear she hadn’t felt since her first encounter with this towering man. His icy blue eyes seemed to burn with an anger more furious than their initial meeting, but then- 

Yngvar closed his eyes, scowled for a moment, then sat back down. Falyth stared at him, her mouth open slightly waiting to see what he was doing. Suddenly, he started speaking again. 

“When I was a boy, my father told me stories of the great King, Ysgramor, and his journey to a peaceful land to escape the ravages of war that had scarred our homeland” his head still pointed down “my friends and I would march through the fields, little kings with our twig crowns, leading imaginary villagers to new lands and finish with our own personal ‘happily ever after’... we wanted nothing more than to be this legendary warrior King, loved by all and worshipped” a nostalgic smile cracked in the corner of his mouth, Falyth shuffling to sit on the step below “many years later when I was just coming of age, sweet news had reached the ears of those who had heard the stories… Ysgramor had returned!” Falyth listened intently “it did not matter whether you lived in the central mountains or the twisting rivers of the East, everyone who had heard the stories travelled to Jylkurfyk to lay their eyes on this great hero of our people!” a smile grew on Falyth’s face, but the one on the Atmorans face soon went “but those who arrived, myself included, were not greeted to cheer and laughter, but horror and violence as we were told tales of bloodshed and murder as the snow skinned Elves who had given them hospitality had turned on them...” Yngvar paused “they escaped death only to be greeted by it once more.” 

“This feels… different.” Falyth quietly stated. 

“What do you mean?” Yngvar enquired. 

“I mean… I’ve heard or read this story many times before; the civil war in Atmora, the mass migration, and the Night of Tears, but hearing it from someone who was there- actually  _ there _ \- when the news of the Elves ’ attack was given, makes the story more potent.” 

“Hmm…” the pained Atmoran grunted. Both the man and the woman sat on the steps for a while, both in silence, until Yngvar finally got up and descended until his heavy feet reached the bottom. He crouched down and begun running his finger through the dirt in the ground, making strange curves and angles reaching around in an arc which Falyth took notice of. 

“What are you doing?” she asked. 

“The central mountains are not exactly central, but they got the name as when they were mapped it was the starting point of travellers outwards. It’s where I lived, lots of ore for working.” Yngvar muttered back. The Dunmer woman made her way to his side. “I mentioned the Eastern rivers, five large waterways make their way from deep wells underneath my homeland towards the icy expanse beyond and many creeks and brooks, big enough for boats, connected them together.” 

It was then Falyth understood what Yngvar was doing… he was drawing her a map of Atmora! 

“The entire Western half of the land was covered in forest, but many trees were cut down for building and the creation of plains to keep beasts for food and burden.” Falyth smiled turning to face Yngvar. 

“Why have you decided to show me this?” she asked. 

“You did something for me,” he stated, still drawing “so I’m doing something for you.” 

“Are you… saying thank you?” the Mage chuckled. 

“You almost defiled important items to my people ’ s faith,…” the pale man wiped his finger on his shirt “but you helped me. I appreciate that.” 

“... I’ll take it.” 

The pair admired the simple but detailed map drawn out in the grime, then suddenly- 

**Clunk**

**Crumble**

Stones came rolling through the tunnel they had come through, echoing around the empty room. This noise made both fugitives jerk their heads up in surprise. 

“Has the Dominion found us?” Falyth gasped. 

“Get to the side,” Yngvar growled “we’ll sneak up around the edge of the room.” he grabbed Falyth by her arm and quickly dragged her to the wall. 

They made their way around slowly, creeping over the risen stone areas for offering tables. They began to hear footsteps. 

“Quicker!” the Atmoran whispered hoarsely. 

They got to the end wall and flattened themselves against it. They waited not too long before a cloaked figure walked past them. They stood a few feet in front of them, their head turning and scanning the room. Yngvar turned his feet, readying himself to launch at the mysterious figure. Falyth grabbed his belt causing him to twist his head towards her. 

“No…” she mouthed, eyes wide. 

Yngvar looked back, the figure was moving their hand to inside their cloak. The Atmoran decided. He jumped forward, causing Falyth to jolt and be thrown onto the floor. He grabbed the figure around their middle and dropping something on the ground. He flung the figure on the floor before grabbing them by the neck and holding them up, his still injured arm shaking. 

“Please… let me… go” the figure croaked “I’m here to help!” 

“Elvish trickery!” the ancient man growled. 

“No!... I’m… friend to… *gasp* Jocelyn Duforte!” 

“LIES!” Yngvar shouted through his teeth gripping harder. 

“Yngvar no!” Falyth yelled “they’re telling the truth!” 

Yngvar held the figure for a little longer before finally letting them fall to the floor. 

“How do you know that they are a friend to us?” the Atmoran asked, annoyed. 

“Their note” Falyth said “it’s a list of areas close to the College of Winterhold!” 

“So this Dominion of yours gave a list of possible hiding holes for anyone looking to collect a bounty! That proves nothing!” 

“I don’t think the Dominion has hold in the Ald’ruhn Mages Guild.” Falyth held the paper in front of Yngvar, showing him a stamp of the Mages Guild symbol. 

“I knew it was a smart move to add that” the figure croaked, rubbing their throat. They got up and removed their hood. A male dunmer with light grey skin and a short, tied up beard. “Come, we must hurry back to my boat. I have seen many High Elves along the coast line but have enough time to slip by if we leave now!” 

“OK!” Falyth agreed, walking with him towards the tunnel “Yngvar, come on!” 

Yngvar was hesitant, but the trust Falyth had for this stranger seemed to seep into himself. She trusted the man and, though he might not agree fully with her methods, Yngvar had placed trust in her. His heavy steps made light echoes in the room chasing after them. 


	6. Newfound Friends pt 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two companions add a third to their party as they continue to evade capture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to my good friend Mr Labo for beta-ing this chapter! :D

Falyth, Yngvar and the Dark Elf from Vvardenfell exited the Nordic hero's tomb from a path that led out above the royal barrow. An old Word Wall provided some cover for the trio as the lecturer scouted the area ahead. Sleet brushed across their faces as the apricot light of late afternoon sun fell across the Sea of Ghosts, illuminating the icebergs meandering across the choppy ocean honey yellow.

“My boat is moored not too far from here, it should be a speedy path for us if we can find the right moment to move.” the Dunmer man stated, looking back at his two new companions.

“Can’t we go now?” Falyth said nervously, “surely there are no patrols on this coastline?”

“From what I’ve heard, yes there are” the other Dark Elf replied, “the Thalmor are being a lot more thorough since they lost some prisoners.”

“Ah…” the young Dunmer commented, “... right.”

The lecturer gestured with his hand and the three of them quickly moved the glacial cliff side, their torsos bent double to keep their profiles low. They stopped on several occasions when hearing chatter above them, the voices faintly muffled from crawling winds. Slowly but surely, they had made their way to a small beach, grey sand peppered with clumps of dry grass. A boat was anchored just off the edge of the beach, freedom was but a short dash away.

“There’s my boat,” the Dark Elf lecturer stated, “if we’re quick enough we should be able to get moving before the next patrol makes its pass!”

They made their move, quickly but carefully, over the dull ground, their feet barely making a mark on the stiff mixture of sand and frozen soil. The boat was clearly visible to them now, rocking gently from side to side in the tide. Their escape was almost ensured, until…

“... the boat, it’s ridiculous! It’s probably just a fisherman or camping group.”  

“I know, but we _have_ to guard it, security has gone up TENfold continent wide.”

Two Thalmor guards complaining to each other appeared almost out of nowhere in front of them, a patrol the trio had failed to notice.  

“But it is no war ship, no extra protection no- hey, who are you three?” one of the guards enquired to the surprised party, hand on their sword, “is this your vessel?” The Dunmer lecturer had to think quickly.

“Ah, yes, well you see…” his eyes darted as if searching for ideas, the two guards brows furrowing, “I am an enthusiast for wildlife! I’m traveling the coastline in search for specimens that tickle my naturalist fancy, if you will! I hear the horkers in this area are fasc-”

“That’s OK, Sir, no need to go on. Are those two… research assistants?” the other guard asked, gesturing towards Falyth and Yngvar.

“Oh well yes!” the lecturer responded, jovially, “more eyes is much better! Easier to spo-”

“Hold on,” the guard interrupted, “hmmm…” the guard took a small scroll from a pouch on his waist. He scanned the page and muttered something to his counterpart.

“Is something the matter?” the Dark Elf man queried.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to take you three with us, incapacitate the-”

**WHOOSH**

Before the guard could finish their words, the lecturer cast a spell of paralysis on the two unsuspecting Altmer. They fell to the ground, their armour ringing loudly as it hit against the rocks on the beach. Far off shouting could be heard.

“I wish I didn’t have to do that,” the male Dark Elf said in an exasperated tone, “now just stand right there, you’re going to need this…”

“Need wha- AAAH!” Yngvar was quickly cut off as another flash of light came from the lecturers hand. “YOU DAMN ELF! WHAT DID YOU JUST DO!?... huh, why do I feel so much lighter?”

“Just run for the boat, we haven’t got long!” the lecturer ordered.

“Come on Yngvar!” Falyth responded quickly. She ran towards the water, the Atmoran hot on her heels. The large man wavered in his footing.   
“I don’t know what that Elf has done to me,” he angrily complained, stumbling slightly on every other step, “but I don’t appreciate it!”

“I think you will appreciate in a second!” Falyth shouted back.  
“What do you-” Yngvar widened his eyes as he witnessed something he’d never seen before...  a person running on the surface of the water. He slowed his steps, unsure on what was about to come but soon enough found himself joining the Dunmer student on this choppy, saline path. His brow furrowed with unease.

“I am VERY unsure about this!” he said, words lined with concern.

Falyth and Yngvar climbed onto the ship and watched as the Dunmer man followed suit, figures lined the cliff edge firing arrows into the murky water with each shot barely missing their mark. He swiftly maneuvered himself onto the ship and speedily began drawing up the anchor and set the sails down, some magical assistance obviously being used. The ship set off at a languid pace, but slowly picking up speed. The figures on the cliff edge disappeared as the trio themselves melted away into the evening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Dark Elf man lit some candles in the bunk area, the pale yellow light filling the room with some welcome warmth, even if it was only a little. The three escapees rested on some boxes that were lying around nearby.

“So, it seems that you’ve gotten yourself into quite the predicament,” the lecturer commented as he handed his rescued pair a cup of water each, “I think some explanation is needed as to why you are on Thalmor’s most wanted list.”

“A lot has happened in a short amount of time,” Falyth said, clutching her cup in both hands, “it was only about two days ago that I was learning about Atmora from a real Atmoran, and it only took one to become a fugitive.” she went quiet. “How is the Arch Mage? Is he alright?”

“And here is where we have _some_ good news at least” the male Dunmer responded with a small supportive smile, “he doesn’t seem to be in any danger at all, simply being monitored.” Falyth let out a small sigh of relief.

“But, that doesn’t mean he’s completely out of the woods just yet,” the lecturer added, not wanting to fill the Dunmer woman with false hope, “as I’ve said, he’s being monitored, mostly through outgoing letters of his.”

“Why are they monitoring his letters?” the student asked.

“The Thalmor have him sending warning messages to the various capital cities,” the lecturer responded, “claiming that a ‘dangerous creature has escaped College containment’ and that it’s ‘accompanied by a deluded student who grew attached’ to said creature.”

“Oh…” the young Dark Elf remarked in a somber tone. The lecturer put a hand on her shoulder.

“Listen, I know it seems bad and that we shouldn't expect a miracle any time soon, but…” Falyth looked up at him, “if that old fool has found a way to get a message to me without being noticed? I think he can handle himself against these pompous, gold skinned bastards!”

“Yeah,” Falyth replied with a small feigned smile, “of course he can.” the lecturer got up and made his way to the door.

“I’ve got to get back to the wheel, check if we’re still on course…” he opened the door, but paused. “... you know, Falyth, I don’t think he would've done this for any of his students. DuForte has a soft spot for you, in fact many of the lecturers do.” the Dark Elf man left, leaving Falyth and Yngvar in the dim candle light. The two of them sat in silence.

“He’s right…” Falyth blurted out.   
“What do you mean?” Yngvar replied quizzically.

“Arch Mage DuForte and the other lecturers give so much of their time for me, to help me with my studies that I obviously have no talent with.” she tightened her grip on the cup. “I’ve always been a burden to them, though they’d never admit it, and how do I repay them? By getting the Arch Mage captured and the College taken over by those… by those…” her hands shook, “... _murderous CONQUERORS!_ ” Falyth slammed her hands on her knees, sending small flames bursting out from her clenched fists. Her face flushed, with Yngvar having an expression of mild shock.   
“You just… made fire!” he said, almost impressed.

“No, it’s nothing,” Falyth replied, “just ignore it.”

“I will not, this is important,” the Atmoran said now with a hint of annoyance, “you can conjure flame but stick to shrinking cuts with healing magic! Where was this when we were escaping? Where was this when they attacked me!? You could be _much_ more useful than you have been!” this seemed to offend the Dunmer student.

“I have been VERY useful when I can be! And I will stick to my healing! I REFUSE to use ANYTHING to do with Destruction magic and NOTHING you say will change my mind!” she said fiercely, standing up to face her ancient counterpart.

“But WHY!? You can take the fight to them! Use your magic and take your revenge on these conquerors! Why do you refuse to use your full potential!?” Yngvar shouts, almost exasperated.

“BECAUSE I WILL _NOT_ END UP LIKE MY PARENTS!!!”

The room fell silent once again. The Atmoran started to speak.

“Falyth, wha-”

“I will NOT end up as another name on a list of casualties fighting some futile war against an unstoppable force!” tears started to fall don the Dark Elf’s ashen cheeks,  “what- what were they thinking!? They weren’t _Battle Mages!_ They were just… bog standard magic users for menial work, how could they EVER think they could take on trained soldiers!?” Falyth fell back onto the crate she sat on. “They left their child all alone to live at the College they went to, the only place to willingly take in an Elf in Skyrim. I will n ever follow their footsteps and blindly walk into a war I am _wildly_ ill prepared for.” the Dunmer woman breathed deeply as more tears were shed, falling onto her dirty Mages robes. Yngvar frowned, then cast his gaze at her.

“Your parents went looking for war…” he said calmly, Falyth looked up at him, “... but right now, war is looking for _you._ ” The ancient man walked out of the door that led to the deck leaving Falyth by herself, the ship gently rocking from side to side in the waves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ship had been at sea for a few days, but they had finally arrived at Morrowind’s inner sea, the hazy outlines of the mainland and Vvardenfell being seen from both sides of the vessel. The Dark Elf man stood at the ship’s wheel, slightly adjusting the positioning every so often with Falyth and Yngvar standing behind him looking out towards the ash covered lands of the Dunmer.

“Where will we be docking?” Yngvar asked.

“There’s a small fishing town along the coast of the mainland,” the lecturer replied, “from there we can get a carriage to Mournhold.”

“Is Mournhold safe?” the Atmoran enquired critically.

“As long as we stay on the outskirts of the city, I don’t see why not. I have enough coin to last us a few days, enough time to formulate the next stage of the plan of what to do with you two.” Yngvar grunted in acknowledgement once the lecturer had finished his statement, then suddenly...

**BOOM**

a huge roar came from Vvardenfell, deep and strong it sent ripples across the deep water the three sailed upon. The ship groaned as it gently rocked on its side, the ancient man looked around with unease.

“What was that!?” Ygvar called out anxiously.

“Tremors caused by the Red Mountain,” Falyth answered, “it’s been like this for the past several decades.”

“I shouldn’t worry,” the Dark Elf man added, “they’ve slowed a lot, tremors were almost _daily_ 150 years ago!” Yngvar nodded, not very convinced with this attempt at levity.

It was many more hours before they reached the coastline of the mainland, the hot afternoon sun beating down on the trio with the snow skinned Yngvar suffering the most, his pale skin turning pink in the heat, the ash sprinkled sky exacerbating his condition forming an insulating layer within the haze. The market at the center of the town allowed them to purchase new clothes to both replace the soiled items the young Dunmer student and her sunburnt friend wore. Falyth had picked a traditional Dunmer outfit in crimson red with yellow tinted gold trims. Yngvar picked a simple but hardy grey shirt made from thick fibres, but refused to give up his belt and bracers. Restocking their water supplies, they headed to the outskirts of the town where they would catch the first available carriage and make the long journey to Mournhold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was evening by the time they got to the ancient city, wispy clouds pulling themselves along the orange and lilac striped sky with the two Moons shining brightly in their crescent form and a warm breeze took spores off the giant fungi that lined the sides of the road. The carriage pulled up the stables outside of the main gate, the coachman calling out for its passengers to depart. The Dunmer man nudged his tired companions and they dragged themselves outside, joining the small group of travellers that had accompanied them during the trip.

“I haven’t visited the old capital in decades, it feels good to see the city again,” the lecturer commented, “despite the circumstances it’s under.” Falyth walked up next to him, rubbing her half closed eyes.

“Can we find an inn soon?” the young Dark Elf yawned, “I can barely keep myself standing… oh my goodness!” her heavy eyes opened up and her aching body became lighter as she saw the three towering spires of the Tribunal Temple in the distance, their crisp black outline like a giant, grabbing dragons claw.

“I’d never think I’d ever see the temple,” she spoke in awe, “even in this low light it’s… remarkable!”

“You can admire it more tomorrow, we need to find ourselves an inn, like _you_ suggested.” the lecturer said with a smile. Falyth nodded, smiling back and rejoined her group.

They traversed the smaller alley ways so as to avoid as many people as they could and sticking to larger groups to cross open areas, blending in as well as they could. Soon enough the stumbled across a quaint inn, perfect for laying low for a few days. They stood at the front desk of the inn.

“The rooms here are cheap, which is fantastic as it means I can afford for us to stay in the luxury attic room.” the Dunmer lecturer said in relief.

“I mean, luxury is good,” Falyth said, thinking about the night she spent in a tomb, “but how does it help us?”

“It’s a four bed room, which means we’ll all be in the same place rather than in individual rooms. Don’t worry though, the beds are separated so we’ll all get some privacy.” the two college exiles seemed unsure about the plan but it was the best they were going to get. The lecturer explained how they should rest up before discussing how to move forward, and the three went to their respective lodgings, the pastel sky darkening and the stars as pin pricks in the sky shining through the warped glass in the window.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Falyth awoke in her bed, noise on the lower floors interrupting her sleep. She rubbed her eyes lazily and spotted the Dunmer man sitting by the door, listening closely. She wandered over with her hands searching in front of her, trying to find any obstacles in the dark that her eyes hadn’t adjusted to.

“What are you doing?” the Dark Elf student groaned, “shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?”

“Some commotion started a few minutes ago, woke me up, thought I’d best listen in.” he said in a choppy way, trying to concentrate on what was happening.

“Have you heard anything important?” the student questioned.

“Sounds like a possible inspection of some kind, people arriving soon, don’t know why people would want to warn-” the lecture got interrupted as the door was heard being flung open and the sound of heavy metal boots seemed to flow underneath them. Falyth recognised this particular sound.   
“Oh no, oh no.” she murmured frightfully.

“Calm yourself,” the Dark Elf man reassured, “Morrowind holds no love for the Thalmor either, not even the Telvanni seem to tolerate them.” he turned back to the door, trying to make out the words muffled through the door.

“... seen these outlaws?...”

“... never met… no Nords…”

“... ask again… reward... waste my time…”

“... busy week… blurred faces…”

“... worth your while…”

There was a dull thump with light scraping.

“... most appreciated.”

The footsteps began working their way up towards the cornered group.

“Get your friend, Falyth, prepare yourselves to leave immediately.” the Dunmer lecturer ordered. Falyth went as quickly as she could to wake Yngvar and to throw their minimal provisions together. The lecturer positioned himself in front of door, hands sparking and face grim in readiness. As soon as the clunking footsteps arrived at their door, the wooden frame snapped as the old wooden door well to the ground. The first soldier had barely stepped inside when the lecturer let loose a flurry of lightning bolts striking their armour, covering them in a brief web of blue zig-zags before falling to the ground twitching every so often. Another shot of lightning was sent hitting the next soldier in the shoulder sending the fireball they had prepared soaring into the table behind the lecturer, charred splinters scattering over the floor and nearby bed. Preparing himself for another shot the lecturer brought up a ward while reading and shot of lightning in his other hand. The soldier he hit was pulled back with two other taking their place. More fireballs were fired, bursting on the ward the Dunmer man had conjured as he struggled to keep it up under the bombardment. He fell back onto the floor, his ward dissipating. The two soldiers each readied another fireball, but before they could lift their hands up, the resilient Dunmer launched a thick stream of electrical energy from both his hands towards the door. The tightly packed soldiers couldn’t do anything about the blue, horizontal pillar cutting them down where they stood.

“COME ON YOU TWO!” the lecturer shouted ”WE’RE LEAVING!” he slowly walked forwards, his two companions following suit. Sparks and bolts flew of the concentrated beam of energy, striking the walls and leaving black, burned streaks across the stained wooden planks. Teeth gritted in determination, the Dunmer man struck down the last guard before collapsing to his knees.

“Are you OK!?” Falyth asked, worried.

“I am perfectly fine,” the lecturer wheezed, “just a bit drained, I haven’t held a spell like that for such a duration in years!” he shakily got himself up, Falyth steadying him, “we need to leave immediately if we’re to stand a chance, I can’t imagine we will have the most inconspicuous exit but there is no other choice.”

The three outlaws stumbled their way to the stairs to leave the inn, the whole building staring at them. They had only just left the threshold of the building when they were spotted by more Thalmor soldiers.

“Stop right there!” one of them cried. Falyth began to panic.

“You need to run! I know you’re exhausted but you need to run!”

“I’ll just slow you down, get out of-”

“By the GODS!” the lecturer was grabbed and flung over the interrupting Atmoran’s shoulder, “which way then!?”

The Dunmer man gave directions to the Southern exit of the city and they all set off briskly, winding through the busy night life of the city. Citizens yelled and grunted as they pushed through the crowds trying to get ahead of the quickly encroaching Thalmor. Suddenly…

**FOOM**

More fireballs, orbs being flung overhead in an attempt to stop them. The people around the started screaming with an inferno raining down onto the structures and stalls, the night brightening in the carnage.

“There it is!” the Dark Elf student called out in hope. Not far off into the distance they could see the pointed archway of the Southern gate. The group turned the last corner and…

“NO!” the gate had been boarded up, taking away the hope she had built. “The gate, it’s been blocked up!”

“By the Gods, of course it would be, gah! I should’ve remembered!” the lecturer growled.

“What do we do!?” the student asked flustered.

“Use your fire.” Yngvar responded, calmly.

“What? No!, I… I can’t!” she snapped back quickly.

“Falyth, you can use Destruction magic?” the lecturer said, almost surprised.

“On the boat, she cast small flames when angry.” the Atmoran said again, equally calm.

“No! It’s not… I can’t…” Falyth fumbled her words.

“If you can break those boards then we need you to, we _need_ to flee NOW.” the lecturer ordered quite sternly.

“I’ve TOLD you! I’m NEVER using it! I’m-”

**FOOM**

**FOOM**

The soldiers had started throwing spells over a wall that separated the gate from the city. Some slammed up against the wooden boards.

“FALYTH,” Yngvar roared in an anger the Dunmer woman had bore witness to only once before, “SET ALIGHT THAT WOOD OR WE DIE! DO YOU _WISH_ TO DIE!?” Falyths eyes began to water.

“No… I- I don’t want to. I don’t want to. I-”

**FOOM**

**CRACK**

By chance the volley of flame sent by the Thalmor ended up being the key to their troublesome lock. Not wasting any time they ran off as fast as they could into the darkness. The Thalmor soldiers went no further than the ancient stone arch that guarded the city.

“I’m sorry,” the Dunmer student said in a pained tone, “ I-I just can’t-”

“Save your breath for now,” her aggravated companion cut in, “explain your hesitation when we are safe!” the group stopped at an old toll station, it’s stone walls crumbling and covered in moss from disuse. Yngvar set the lecturer down by the wall, leaning him against it so that he was sat upright.

“So much for a comfortable night's sleep.” the Dunmer man groaned. “As for right now, there’s no time to waste. We must head North-West towards the border between Skyrim and Morrowind, it shouldn’t matter if we cross early into Cyrodiil as long as we don’t wander in too far inland.”

“Why can’t we rest here for the moment?” Falyth enquired, worrying, “these areas have been cleared out haven’t they?”

“No, not cleared, merely pushed away only for them to come back in.”

“What are you talking about?” Yngvar interjected, “what has been cleared out?” as soon as he finished, movement could be heard in the flora around them. All three were now on edge, the Dunmer lecturer now pulling himself to his feet.

“We must go, now.” he ordered, “no arguing, no comments just mo-” the sound of leaves parting was quickly followed by an arrow speeding towards the Dark Elf man, striking him in the back. He cried out only to be silenced when another arrow struck him directly between the shoulder blades. Falyth screamed and Yngvar darted his head in every direction. Suddenly, out of the undergrowth came light as torches were lit in scaly hands. Quickly and smoothly, the remaining pair were surrounded by a group of Argonians, fierce and covered with war paint.

“You _dare_ trespass in OUR lands, Elf?” an Argonian female hissed.

“No!” Falyth pleaded, “no, we-”

“Look at her robes!” another Argonian called out, “she’s a mage!”

“Probably one of those Telvanni!” the lizard folk closed in.

“Slavers!”

“Torturers!

“Kill them!”

“Wait!” the Argonian woman shouted, “these two look like the ones from the posters… yes, yes they are!”

The student and ancient man stood close to each other, Yngvar seemingly trying to shield Falyth.

“Bring them in, show them off to Xith-Jeeki, I’m sure he’ll agree that we should ransom them off!” the group agreed ecstatically to this proposal. Soon after, Falyth Yngvar and the body of the lecturer were led off deeper into the strange wilderness of Morrowind.


End file.
